Them
by axsce
Summary: By order of their therapist, Sasuke moves in to help struggling Hinata with her own anxiety, as she assists him with his own compulsiveness. A vow to end destruction is made. Can they keep their promises?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This is **no** way romanticizes mental disorders. They are very serious and I am not trying to stereotype these but rather have them included in the plot to bring awareness of the reality of those mentioned.

* * *

**Them**

Her hands were starting to get clammy.

Everyone stared at her, not because they _wanted_ to, but instead because their therapist had told them to do so. Her conscience was nibbling at her brain—'I_s it alright to speak? Will I bother anyone?'_—she couldn't control her thoughts, because they were consistent when it came to public speaking. She had to remind herself that this was optional, and that she chose to attend. She chose to come here, and she will be damned if she became the coward she always feared to be.

"Hinata, everyone's waiting."

She stood up after mumbling a silent apology no one was able to hear. Various pairs of eyes followed the petite woman as she rose from her old, metal chair, and instinctively began tugging at a good portion of her long hair for balance. It was one of her many habits she just could not get rid of.

"I'm Hinata," She began confidently, only to lose it as her eyes began meeting the rest of her peers. Squirming, she continued. "I'm here because I've been d-diagnosed with panic disorder...and I'm v-very grateful to be here with all of y-you here." She said timidly, which was followed with group members returning her greeting in bland, monotone voices.

The clock in her head was counting down until the eyes were assigned to the next participant. She sat back down, sighing in relief. She had felt the lump in her throat fade little by little, regaining her lost composure. Every time she had to introduce herself this happened, where she'd try to tackle the social confrontation only to be met with her body rejecting all of her efforts and suddenly letting herself get embarrassed.

She was never one to be good with crowds. Once the attention was diverted to someone else, she was glad to be reunited once again with the chair she sat it twice a week alone. This was the third time her therapist had suggested a group session, and this was her first time finally attending it.

She didn't want to attend but Sakura—being her own anchor and personal doctor—encouraged her to take the necessary actions towards helping control her unwarranted anxiety.

Thankfully this time nothing happened, and her therapist Kurenai noticed it with a smile. "Thank _yourself_, Hinata, for being here with all of us. Now, let's introduce our last new member, everyone," She said with a warm smile, though Hinata couldn't help but feel as though it didn't meet the woman's eyes.

It was tough for her to see the true, honest good in people. Hinata just had so much doubt bottled up inside and it was something she just couldn't let go after all she had been through as a child. She was struck with bad luck at every given opportunity that it just ended up being her own, personal philosophy.

She just—overall—couldn't be as optimistic as before.

Her fingers began to grow cold with the air conditioner being placed right behind her. The room belonged to a nearby elementary school, with colorful, cheery photographs of the children attending the grade school followed with their own creations of positivity plastered everywhere. Artwork dangled from the ceiling, stars with names were taped along the door. One would've guessed the fourteen strangers had come here after hours for a parent-teacher conference, not to seek refuge from their own personal struggles.

"Go ahead and introduce yourself, Sasuke," Kurenai urged a man right next to her, who Hinata had assumed was the last new comer. Her hair covered her view so it wasn't until the man stood up that she turned her head to follow everyone's stares.

He couldn't have been more stoic as he began his introduction. "I'm Sasuke, and I've been diagnosed with being obsessively compulsive, apart from being a huge ass. Unlike the girl to my left," He gestured towards her with a single finger, causing her throat to go dry, "I don't want to be here with any of you. And you should get a proper trim, Hinata." He bitterly spat. "Your bangs were clearly not cut evenly. They're atrocious."

"I shake a lot when I'm near s-s-scissors..." She bowed her head a but low, wondering why on earth the attention was being brought to her again. She didn't even do anything this time, honest!

He rolled his eyes. "It shows." He sat back down.

Kurenai chose to ignore the little dispute that had transpired and clasped her hands together rather loudly after pulling her wild, dark hair into a sloppy bun. "Now that the final introductions of this seminar have been done, I'd like to take this time to remind you all why you're here. You're all here because you wanted my help and I've done my part with most, if not all of you during our one-on-one sessions. That being said, I don't think I can do this alone. I think the best way to help isn't just solely on cognitive therapy with me, and allow me to explain that bit right now."

Kurenai made her way to the chair right in the middle of the circle, ignoring any mumbles about whatever she was planning on introducing next. "I've always firmly believed that there is nothing better than being able to relate to someone in some way, shape, or form in order to overcome your own obstacles. I want to help but I also want you all to begin to help each other, and those of you that were referred her by friends or family will be glad to know that they also agree with my method of assistance."

"I've assigned each of you to a partner, making it seven pairs that will keep track of each other and try to aid by being with each other daily. The best way for this to happen is to have one of you welcome your partner into your homes for a duration of three weeks. I think that isn't a long period of time and it _is_ an experiment of mine, I wouldn't want this to be long term. Don't assume that I'm doing this for my own studies, for that's only a minor role. The purpose of this it for you all to open up to someone else and by allowing that, are also welcoming the assistance of someone besides me. It'll help you become less dependent on our sessions and instead will place you on a track where you can help someone else do the same."

She grabbed her clipboard from her side and a smile curved up on her lips. "Since I had originally thought of twelve and didn't know I'd have two more of you show up, I think it's only fair Sasuke and Hinata be paired up for this. Everyone else can get in line to find out who you're with."

* * *

While bodies rose from their chairs and legs began to pace towards her therapist, she remained in her seat, her lower lip twitching. Of all the people, she was paired up with the jerk that went straight for her weakest spot, her self-esteem.

"I'll stay at your place," He said to her for he didn't move either. "There's bound to be a mess and I want to make sure you learn how to keep it orderly."

"I don't have an extra b-bed." She mumbled. She lived alone with a small, tan Pomeranian named Lu. The only furniture she really invested in was a flannel-patterned couch that did not include a mattress.

"I can take the couch." To him it wasn't an issue. "I get sick of my own apartment after a while anyways. I need the break."

"Um, do you need help packing?"

"No." He paused. "I just really don't need it, I don't like when people touch my things."

She nodded, her lips curving upwards. "I'm making tomato soup tonight if that isn't a p-problem."

It was as if his eyes brightened up a bit bu she couldn't really tell; the man was obviously trying to restrain a smirk and instead coughed. "That's fine." That was all he could say, without not sounding too excited.

She took out a tiny agenda book from her backpack and began scribbling her address and e-mail. Tearing the piece of paper, she gave it to the man who was analyzing her chicken-scratch handwriting. "I can hardly read this," He said.

"That's good enough," She could only add. He grunted and shoved the folded piece of paper into his pocket.

* * *

Before long the meeting had ended and the two parted ways. With a frown adjusting on her pale face she noted that it was raining. She had forgotten her umbrella and pulled up the hood of her sweater to cover her head. Her steps towards the bus stop were interrupted by an aggressive arm holding her back, however.

"Did you really think I'd let you take the bus that is always late on and never on schedule?"

"Um," She really didn't like talking to him. "This is how I got here."

"Why don't you have a car?"

She hated being interrogated. It made he queasy and frankly it was none of his business. But being her new partner and an awfully cold stare he was giving her was beginning to send shivers up her spine, she sighed. "I stopped d-driving after a bad accident."

"My car's around the corner. I'll just get my things and you can tell me the way to your place." He released her arm and began to stomp down the sidewalk, ignoring the way his suit was getting damp from the drops. "Catch up, I don't step on cracks."

She couldn't help but laugh as she pulled her hood up again. "You believe in those child myths?"

"I just don't like cracks. I don't like looking at them and they ruin the rest of the cement so I avoid them." He didn't add anything else. By the time he had finished his sentence they had arrived to his car anyway. It was a black Benz, with seat covers that made her feel all warm despite the cold rain.

"I don't like leather." He said blandly as he started his car.

"So you buy a car w-with leather?" She was confused.

"It was pleasing to the eye from the outside but by the time I noticed I had already signed the lease." His hands began gripping the steering wheel as he reached a light, and later released once it was his right of way. He didn't speed, and put his car on autopilot. His eyes focused on the road but eventually wound up staring back at his odometer, and honestly it scared her to know that he was so intrigued by the numbers glowing green.

When they reached his apartment, he got out and returned within four minutes. Eventually it was her time to let him know where she lived and at this he grimaced. "If I had let you take the bus, you would've had to take two different trains."

She nodded, not seeing the issue. "Hinata, it's very late and dangerous out to be doing that so recklessly. Not to mention the bus being hardly ever on time. You know that, right?"

"I'm used to it," She said. "And what I do is none of your b-business." All she wanted to do was make the soup and see Lu and rest, damn it. She had a job to maintain and that involved waking up on time to _get_ on time.

He rolled his eyes, leaving the two silent for the duration of the drive. Once they arrived, he was reluctantly following the petite female as she pressed a button towards the elevator that took them three levels up. Down the hall, the last door to the left, was her home. She could already hear Lu scratch at the door, whimpering.

"She's friendly," She whispered with a smile, and once she had twisted the knob was greeted with her fluffy pup that couldn't stop jumping around the small living room. He made his way past the two and ignored the dog that was trailing behind him.

"I don't want that dog near me."

"That's t-too bad, because she's _family_." She said stubbornly, ignoring the arched brow thrown at her as she picked up her dog and kissed Lu on her head. Hinata stuck her tongue out and walked past the rude man and went straight for her room, ignoring his obnoxious grunt. If he was going to be living with her he'd have to be nice, damn it. Lu wasn't going anywhere so he should be told that from the beginning. If he had a problem, he could just leave and that would be that.

Once the woman slammed her bedroom shut, Sasuke ran his fingers through his damp hair, frowning. He took in his new environment and was beginning to feel his head shake. None of the furniture went well with the color she chose for the walls. The coffee table in the middle had been chewed by all of its legs, and he could only assume it was all because of that damn mutt of hers.

She had dozens of magazines aimed towards children all over the couch, with colorful totes carrying books at every corner of the room. DVDs were piled at random near the small television that rested off the ledge of her window. The photos that were framed didn't even _fit_ the right measurements of said frame, and that was also pissing him off. The overall lack of care on her part for her home's appearance had him irritated as it were.

'_I have to sleep on this_.' He thought bitterly as he without caring tossed the magazines on the ground, hoping the dog would chew on them or something. He was beginning to lose his appetite and remembered that he, too had work in the morning as well.

He would've knocked to ask about the soup but from just going to the bathroom to brush his teeth, he saw the petite woman collapsed on her bed with her dog huddled close to her as they both slept from the crack of her door. He had never imagined her room to be even more colorful than her living room, and shook his head.

'_I'll call tomorrow off and just clean._' He wasn't sure how he'd approach the subject in the morning but it didn't matter. This was his home for three weeks and he was going to put in all of his efforts to make it the least bit bearable he can.

She, on the other hand, was fast asleep, trying to get rid of all of her worries but instead began to relive her happiest memories. When her husband was alive, and when everything was at peace. When she could wake up every morning with a smile, instead of burying her head into her pillows thinking she'd drown.

Sasuke had something to look forward to, but Hinata did not. She long lost her purpose, and sincerely doubted she'd find solace in this assignment. Before long she was beginning to cry in her sleep. This always happened, and she could never seem to escape it.

'_I can fix that, too_.' He thought, still standing by her door. There were problems the woman was facing that he was sure she wouldn't open up to automatically but knew that in time, she would, and during that time, she could finally free herself from her personal heartache, whatever it may be.

* * *

A/N: Someone submitted this idea to me (It was a general one, not like specific plot-like things) on my FF blog a few months back and it's just now been on my mind. I'm currently not feeling well mentally and I see a therapist soon so I'll know eventually what is wrong. I wanted to write this because I know that many people suffer from their own disorders and can't help how they feel. I just wanted to write this also because I haven't written in such a long time and with senior year coming to a close so is my life. I have to grow up and as much as it pains me I know I have to soon because I'll be 18 in August and that's just how life is.

Review, message me, all of that is encouraged. I just wanted to get something out. I do plan on eventually updating my other stories, so don't lose hope in me yet.

With love,

personafour


	2. Chapter 2

**Them**, Chapter 2

* * *

The time Uchiha Sasuke should've spent sleeping was instead replaced with an extensive arm workout. After many failed attempts of trying to get some rest—this was due to the stiffness of the couch and his poor habit of twisting and turning unconsciously—he decided to make use of the time he was awake to clean up a bit.

He didn't want to mention it to her but it was honestly killing him just how uneven the apartment truly was. He couldn't tell if it was clean or not, because dust was scattered throughout some spaces on shelves and even on chairs but tables remained clean, and the uncertainty was also bothering him. The only solution was to well, clean anyway, and make things right…according to his standards, of course.

Which would explain why he was scrubbing every beige tile in the kitchen with bleach and leaving them as white as his teeth. His arms were growing tired but that came with hard work and dedication, and honestly, he didn't really mind. He lived for perfection, or at least exceeding what many deemed as 'normal' for cleanliness.

With her not really having any cleaning supplies in sight—he raided each cabinet only to find a few paper plates, empty coffee cans, and expired tuna—he had to improvise, and strapped a two plates to each of his feet with a strand of the mop he found in the dry goods closet. While that was also disgusting, he really didn't have a choice, considering he doubted she'd be alright with him destroying any of her paintings dangling from the ceiling for the sake of avoiding touching the dirty floor.

As for gloves, well, he figured he could just scrub his hands for a good half an hour with soap after he finished. Again, he really didn't have much of a choice. From what his eyes could find, most of the floor consisted of coffee stains, dried dog drool, and crumbs she never bothered to sweep up.

Honestly, this was inexcusable. If you can't keep your personal home clean, maybe you shouldn't be living on your own. But he had to hold back a laugh because in a way, she wasn't alone anymore, and here he was doing her bidding (Without her asking for it of course, but he liked to believe she wanted him to do this, and he did this mainly for his own sanity, not to please the stranger).

Once he was finished, he made sure to soak the floor with dishwasher soap—she didn't have anything for the tiles and he mentally noted to pick some up later today—twice, and then drying it with a dark shirt he found underneath the couch. Sighing, the man headed for the sink and filled it up with bubbles before sticking his hands and slouching his shoulders in relief.

His therapist would be proud of him being able to sustain from obsessing over the germs that probably infiltrated underneath his fingernails and covered his knuckles…and then he shut his eyes and counted backwards.

'_Ten, nine, eight…_'

Like that, the thoughts had vanished. Though he was skeptical about the whole depending on others for help with his problems ordeal, sometimes the counting helped, because it just led his mind wander off to something beside. Scratching an itch behind his ear, the now tired man headed for the couch, with the anticipation to get some actual rest for at least a while.

* * *

She woke up to Lu's whining, and sighed. A bit earlier than she needed to be up, but now it gave her time to take a long bath before work. Stretching her arm for her towel, she yanked the teal, heavy cloth and lazily made her way for the bathroom just next door.

Filling the tub up to the point where water was on the verge of overflowing, she turned off the faucet and gave herself a look in the mirror. There were times where she just couldn't grasp that this was her skin—covered in scars from the many times she often tripped as a child, which resulted in her being the clumsy person she was today—the way it shun bright from the lamps that hung against the wall, even the thickness of her hair after releasing it from her rubber band's hold. The trenches of the violet sea were released and she nearly groaned, fearing that it was going to be a bitch to brush afterwards.

Stripping from her clothes from the night before, she stepped in a leg at a time until she felt herself sink into the warmth comfort of the tub. Slowly bringing herself to sink lower, she allowed her hair to feel the coolness of clean water, and reached for her shampoo and began to lather it throughout her hair. She winced once she reached for the ends, realizing she should probably invest in getting them trimmed, but who did she have to impress?

The only person she really cared about no longer had a say, unfortunately…

She stared at the ceiling, feeling tears once again threaten to appear. "This always happens." She mumbled grimly, throwing water in her face to rid of the salt forming in her eyes. No matter what she did, she was often reminded she was alone, and would probably stay that way. It wasn't even that she couldn't be independent, it was just the fact that she didn't have her own light anymore.

And it just wasn't fair, living like this, without the person that made you into the person you are now. It was a waste, and she just couldn't get herself to get over it.

Feeling her body tremble, she—in defeat—got up and felt the coolness of the room engulf her body with chills as she reached once more for her towel and began to dry her body off after dipping out of the tub.

On the sink counter, was her hairbrush, her toothbrush, whatever was left of the toothpaste, and some strands of hair, violet hair. After leaving her hair free of tangles, she brushed her teeth, staring dully into the mirror. Sometimes she could see him in the mirror, next to her own reflection, as if he had never left.

She could distinctly remember how when money was tight, he would suggest they shower (To conserve water, of course), and for a brief moment her mouth twitched upwards, before she pressed her mouth into a thin line of indifference.

A year had passed, but everything still felt so familiar. Since it all happened, she couldn't allow herself to open up to anyone—not her therapist, not even Sakura, and she knew a great deal. She had to result to burying herself in her misery in hopes of not disturbing anyone else with her own problems, and despite people always offering to be there, she just never had the capability to trust anyone but him.

No one else could compare, and it was just a touchy subject altogether. She would always assume he was probably disappointed into knowing how weak she really was, but there was only so much she could do without bursting into tears at every given moment.

So, she suppressed. She suppressed everything and anything she could that was related to him. Everything he owned, she hid. There were boxes (Big and small) scattered in places hidden so that they weren't in plain view and it helped. But it didn't help that her mind was filled with memories and items all around her, as if they were always there.

His orange towel was still hung on the door, but she liked to think she kept it there for decoration, or something. Had she washed it? She doesn't remember. She never really did laundry all that regularly, and that was his chore…

Shaking her head, Hinata left the bathroom and turned off the light, and decided to get dressed. Her room was filled with mountains of clean and dirty clothes all over, and honestly she couldn't tell the difference between what to wear. Deciding on olive tights and a light blue, long sleeved button-up that was three sizes too big, she squeezed whatever water was still sitting in her hair before putting it in a messy bun on top of her head.

Not even bothering to make her bed (She never did), she grabbed the four tote bags overfilled with dozens of paintings and made her way towards the front door, slamming the door behind her.

Already reaching the main floor of her building, it dawned to her that she forgot, well…shoes.

Face flushed, she ran back upstairs with her things (That were surprisingly not wearing her down, for in high school she was on the Track team and always ran with weights wrapped around her arms for practice) only to find that the door was locked, and that she also unsurprisingly forgot her keys.

"Damn it," She mumbled, and before she could knock again her guest opened the door with a sour look on his face.

"Forgot these?" He scowled, eyeing the woman below him. She woke him up unintentionally, she determined, for she honestly forgot he was even staying with her. He held the keys and a pair of worn-out sneakers in one hand, the other holding the door.

"Um, could I have those? I have to be at work within the next ten minutes…"

"You woke me up."

"I r-realize that," She responded carefully, fully aware that if he truly wanted to, he could just slam the door in her face and allow her to get fired. Again, if he really _wanted _to, he could, but she had a sense of hoping that wasn't the case, that this stranger wasn't as cruel as he appeared.

"I'm sorry I woke you up, Sasuke." She said in a determined tone. "But I need my keys and shoes, please?"

"Where do you work that you're dressed like _that_?"

"I'm an art teacher…" She mumbled, looking down at her toes through her tights. At this point she fiddling with her fingers again, and had to slam her hands against her sides to stop. Her therapist told her to stop with the antics to avoid confrontation, and to face her fears. That wasn't to say she was scared of her new temporary roommate, but rather that she could practice for real life situations that involved speaking against someone.

In this case, she was battling the handsome man that bore strained eyes from lack of proper sleep.

He scoffed. "That explains so much, actually." The odd paintings around her house, the fact that _none_ of her furniture matched…it just made sense. Like, of course she would be an artist. "Here." He dropped the keys into her open palms and the sneakers onto the ground, slamming the door behind him.

She knocked again.

"What?"

"You didn't let me say t-thanks."

He stared. "Bye."

The door slammed again. She was sure her landlord was going to speak to her about this later today. Checking her watch, she groaned. "I'm late…"

* * *

"Hello Sasuke," Kurenai's smooth voice rang in his eyes upon the vibration of his cellphone on the coffee table. This was the second time he was woken up by a woman and he already was on the verge of being homicidal. "I'm calling to check up on you. How is your stay at Hinata's home so far?"

"_Terrific_." He was tired, okay? Could anyone blame his attitude?

"How is it?" She asked again, not buying his sarcasm. "This is serious, Sasuke. I'm trying to follow up on your progress. Have you noticed anything about her that seems off? How do you feel, more importantly?"

"Very colorful," He commented. He didn't want to tell her everything, because some things just weren't her business. And he didn't even know the girl all that well enough to be acting like he was prying into her life anyways. Plus, he wanted to do this "helping her" gig on his own terms, and that meant not involving his nosy therapist (Who meant well, but still pretty nosy).

"Okay, anything else?"

"Ah…no."

"Call if you need me then, Sasuke."

The call ended and he sighed. This place was a mess and he just knew he would have to spend the rest of the day bringing it a bit more to life.

* * *

A/N: I got a new laptop, which means I have a working keyboard! How exciting. I'm be 18 in literally a month. I'm beyond ecstatic. Anyway, enjoy. I'll try to update my other things as well. Also, if it wasn't obvious, I took down "Hitting", my one-shot, and will probably take down "You're Welcome" soon, too. I feel horrible for doing so but it's probably for the best.

Til next time,

personafour


	3. Chapter 3

**Them**, Chapter 3

* * *

The day went by in a blur for her, as did many in the past. She stopped checking her wristwatch because it only made her more anxious, craving more time to ponder; she was never one to know the right answer to anything.

She lacked answers; the ones she so often forgot even existed.

She could feel the dried up tears on her cheeks, the color remaining, the heat not leaving. She could sense her lack of clothing, the hairs on her legs standing—the lack of motivation to shave was severe but the overall action lacked urgency—the cool breeze from the window of a room she could not recall for the life of her of entering. There was a body of a man she did not recognize to her right, a loose arm draped around her torso.

There was no warmth from the embrace.

She bit her lip, the actions that led up to this moment clicking immediately. She knew she had a drinking problem, but she didn't think it was anyone's business. And as usual, the nights she randomly selected to go out and get wasted ended up with being in bed with a stranger. It didn't sicken her anymore at this point; rather, the intimacy she lacked and oh, so craved was provided; so in a sense, she was being partially fulfilled. It fueled her mind into believing that maybe she was on the right path to happiness, that this was her outlet that didn't lead to temporary solution.

As many times as she had tried to bring herself to come to such terms—the act of suicide—it just was not something she could complete, as much as her mind tugged and constantly debated the possible solution. It wasn't that she was afraid of the consequences, in fact, there were none for her; what could she be losing that was keeping her away from the other side of the grass?

There was nothing to lose for her, for she had already lost the one person who completed her in ways no one else could.

Yet here she was, a bottle of Bacardi on left, half-empty, the receipt from just a few hours ago tucked underneath. Hair disheveled, tangled at its ends, bites along her bare breasts, her buds hardening because of the chills she felt despite being covered with his sheets; sheets that carried no familiar scent, no comfort, no remorse.

Perhaps sex wasn't the answer, either. Perhaps she shouldn't go off with strangers for a quick fuck and that maybe—just maybe—she should love herself more and stray from such reckless answers. If she were to be honest, this guy was probably the 20th man she had slept with since the accident.

It—temporarily—killed her intimacy, slaughtering every slight chance of recovery for her to move on, but it didn't halt her sex drive, and the desire to feel someone insider her, giving her what she could not stop craving. The growls the man released as he pumped into her core, the hand that gripped over her mouth hard as to not cause any hint of screams from releasing, the teeth clawing at open, untouched skin, her nails damaging the stranger's spine, even the small whispers—"You like getting fucked like the slut you are?"—only fueled her body to react in such a manner that left her at peace, leaving her without complaints.

It wasn't about self-respect, it was about self-appreciation. It wasn't as though she was going to give these men the time they probably wanted—most of them went along with the charade and went straight to the point, not trying to ruin the moments.

The kisses, whether planted at the nape of her neck or just above her womanhood, were enough to keep her at bay, to remind her that at least one stranger could love what she could not. She could project these sensations and pretend—something she often did—that it was her husband, cradling her head as he would enter from behind, leaving her—ultimately—breathless.

She missed those moments the most.

Ignoring the cool air, the woman moved the arm from her hips and began to put the layers of clothes back onto her naked body, her legs weak from just how rough the sex she endured had been. Silently, she wiped all trances of sweat off her brow with her sock, adjusting her hair into the loose bun she wore just moments before he released her waves of hair and exiting the dark room long before he could notice, bottle at hand.

She was woman. She felt no remorse.

Hyuuga Hinata took a swing of the bottle, trying to savor the remaining vodka before swallowing it all down quickly. Her throat burned, but that was a sensation she preferred.

It reminded her of how human she was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Them**, Chapter 3

* * *

He could hear her footsteps as she sloppily walked into the apartment just as the green digits on the custard alarm clock residing on the kitchen counter struck six in the morning. He could smell her breath from the couch, but kept his eyes averted to the ground. He was thankful he didn't cut his hair; it kept his gaze hidden. He could barely make out her slurred words as she spoke softly to herself, and didn't flinch when she threw her empty bottle on the counter.

The glass bottle shattered, the remnants of the bottle's content soiling the drawings her students spent weeks on (as she had mentioned it just the day before). Both ignored the shattering. The dog's bark could be made out easily from the bedroom. They were portraits of their parents. Uchiha Sasuke wouldn't know how that felt since he lost the chance at such a tender age.

A chunk of glass grazed his cheek, and the cut burned. He didn't get up. He waited.

She kept talking, but he could barely make out the name. It would help him if she spoke louder, but maybe she—finally—realized that she wasn't alone. Maybe she saw his figure on the couch. It wasn't like he slept under a blanket; it was fairly easy to make out the man's body as he was shirtless and only wearing sweats.

"Ah…Lu," She sighed, remembering she had a dog to feed. She noticed the yellow stain on her carpet and dropped her shoes to the floor, laughing to herself softly. The dog was scratching her door, as she had left it shut when she left.

He wondered where she had went, but as soon as she entered, it was obvious.

Taking the dog's leash off the hanger, she put it on Lu's collar and turned in shock at the sight of the man sitting up on the couch, bare and empty, black eyes boring into her own. She squeaked.

"You're home early." He sarcastically spat.

"And you're…bleeding." She noticed. Trying to approach the man, she held onto the edge of the loveseat before lazily crawling towards the couch, holding herself steady. "Did I do that?"

With all the power he possessed, Sasuke chose to ignore the cut. He could tend to the wound in a bit. He needed this confrontation as it was past due. He didn't like attending to things late. That was never his style.

"Yes."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"You smell like alcohol." He observed. The mascara was stained on her cheeks, her hair was distressed, her lips were chapped, and when she burped the scent of vodka hit his nostrils so hard they flared. He didn't like hard drinks. In fact, he didn't drink at all.

"I'm sorry?" She laughed, not understanding the big deal. This was what she was _used_ to. This was her routine: go to work, forget her troubles, sleep with men, and drink whatever she wanted. She wasn't breaking any rules. She was just…mending herself in her own way. She had perfected the bachelorette lifestyle to accommodate her crippling anxiety. What was the harm? "I would have been home earlier…if I drove," she later added, as if this was something neither thought of.

Of course that crossed his mind. But as an observer, he knew firsthand that it was something she would not get over. The fear of returning into the state of distress, from the trauma that she refused to fully reveal was not something she would want to relive anytime soon.

But that wasn't what mattered to him. Sure, he didn't _particularly_ care if she had sex and got drunk all the time, but he wasn't planning on wasting his time staying at this woman's house without answers. He was a committed person, and damn it, he was going to help just like she was obligated to help him. That was the entire point of this.

"Why don't you drive?" He decided to ask, since it was clear this was the only time he would have time to speak to her without being thrown vague, rushed answers.

She smiled, deciding to sit on the plaid-patterned loveseat, spreading her legs and digging her elbows into her knees. "I killed someone," She said, her eyes already watering. "And if I do it again, I'm afraid I'll kill myself."

Sasuke wasn't much for apologizing, but he didn't think he would be told something so heavy. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. It's not your fault, you know." She said, the tears already falling. By this point it was too late to stop. "I mean, I was the one driving, you know? I was the one who didn't break in time, I was the one who got too distracted and let go. I was the one who was responsible, and everyone told me not to worry but it's okay, I'm grown. I can admit I killed him. I know I did."

It was silent, except when her faint croaks began. Her fingers dug into her scalp, tugging strands of hair as she stared at the floor, unable to breathe. He could only watch; he needed to let her release whatever she had bottled up, that's what every website he read about clinical therapy suggested, anyway.

"I still think about that day, you know? We fought earlier and I was so upset with him that I just blanked," She said suddenly between coughs. "And we never fought. But whenever we did, he'd come in with his arms spread so _wide_," she used her arms to demonstrate, before they immediately fell, used to hold her head as she struggled to continue. "And take me back and then it'd be fixed. But I didn't get the chance to fix it. I really hate that day."

"How long were you with him?" This side of her, something he didn't think was so dark…intrigued him. Though it wasn't any of his business, never had he seen the woman be so open.

"We would've been married for a year and had our son," she said after looking up, a glimpse of remorse in her lifeless eyes. "But I ruined it. It was all a surprise and I couldn't keep the focus and I ruined it. I ruined everything. All I do is destroy."

As if on instinct, Sasuke rose and took the woman in his arms. Her arms wound so tightly around him, nails digging into his skin. "I don't want to destroy anymore," She breathed, before resulting into strangled moans.

Stroking her hair—something he had never done to another human, for physical contact of any form was not something he was accustomed to—cleared his throat. He hadn't even felt how dry it was. "I won't let you." He said. "I promise."

He was met with a tighter squeeze.

* * *

A/N: I decided to experiment with this story, and try to alter my writing style with a few tweaks. What do you think? I'm just writing as I go with this. Took me a year to update but here you have it. I have a poll on my main page if you could check it out; I promise it's more of a benefit for you than it is for me (I'm lying). But really, I would appreciate the feedback.

I'm not going anywhere.

axsce


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